Monster
by Vixen of Light
Summary: She's their little darling monster...dark!fic, character death, post BD. *If you don't like the idea of horror in Twilight, don't read the story or bother flaming me. I have warned you.*


There's blood dripping down the white, white skin. I try not to think of how it reminds me of Bella's skin when she was human. I suspect _she_ picked the girl just to remind me of Bella. The girl has pale brown eyes which are filled with pain and terror, just starting to glaze over into shock from blood loss. I hear _her_ giggle and drag _her_ nails into those chestnutty eyes. They seep and weep and oh, how _she_ laughs.

I have to force myself not to pull away. That encourages _her_.

"Why would you do that?" I ask, keeping my voice even. When I hunted humans in the shadows, they were worse than this. I saw it in their thoughts – the mean, the sadistic, the crazy. I killed them and drank their sick blood and wondered if it contaminated me. I was a martyr, a murderer, kith and kin and justice. But I had recovered myself, forced myself to ignore those seamy, dirty answers in favour of anonymous police calls and tip-offs if I could.

Now I saw those crimes replayed every day, forced into my mind.

_She _pulls her hand back and giggles.

"Do you like it, Daddy? I picked her for you..."

"You mustn't do that to people," I murmur, staring at her gleeful little face. So beautiful, so angelic, It was how she drew people to her, with those flawless eyes and her graceful little ways, her shimmer. Humans were charmed by her. I remember Bella's expression when _she_ would interact with Charlie...well, at first...until it was his broken body _she_ was laughing over.

"Why?" she asks, eyes innocently wide. "It's fun."

I feel helpless – something an invulnerable vampire should never feel. "It's wrong."

"Jacob lets me," she giggles, that little bell-like sound she produces, and she knows as well as I do that Jacob can't refuse her. I hear him howling in agony by night when he can bear to part from her and when he's able to walk. She likes to hear him cry. As a child he would dandle her on his lap and brush her shining hair and now, at eight years of age, with the mind of an adult with a mere eight years of life, she claws apart his skin and revels as he crawls across the floor to her with devotion in his eyes, as if one day she'll let him pick up her pink hairbrush again and everything will be the same as it once was.

"We will have to stop you," I stare at her and she stares back, blank and glassy and she knows as I do that it's an empty threat. Bella won't lay a hand on her now. Bella stares at me with eyes that don't weep, because they cannot, and makes little whimpering noises at the knowledge that _this was her flesh_. Bella clings to me and I know I can't save her from _her_.

("Why, Edward?" she whispers when _she_ isn't there, and I have no answer. She blames herself, my darling Bella, and remembers the day of _her_ birth, when _she_ bit her own mother as she held her because _she_ wanted to...and Bella never spotted the beginnings of her own little monster...her baby, too young, too old, too unique, too bound...mad from the womb. How could I allow this?)

"They don't always die," she points out. This is true, to the literal letter – I visited the shell-shocked teenager she had met once in a home where he dribbled and screamed in the night. He had been handsome, for humans, once; now he was hollow-eyed, sunken-cheeked. Dead inside.

There's no point locking her up. She will escape somehow.

"Besides," she carries on, "I wanted to give you something. I'm ever so grateful that you protected me from the Volturi so now they won't come for me. I wanted to choose someone I thought you would enjoy." Her little eyes narrow. "Can't you imagine drinking that blood? It was delicious, Daddy, I assure you. Like lavender and honey. I licked it from her liver, Daddy, don't you think it tastes better there? She didn't seem to like that, though. I don't know why. It's what we were born to do...well, I was born. " Her merry little laugh burns into my skull. I try to step away.

"Don't be ungrateful, Daddy..." she whispers, pulling closer and raising a hand. "Would you prefer this?" Her hand blurs in the air and there's _heat, blood, I'm burning...she's torn my arms and legs from me, nothing but a burning, blistering diamond corpse. It's agony, endless... I hear Bella screaming. Hell is calling to me..._

I can't turn away. I can't stop her – she would let Jacob fight me until we both died – no, _make_ him. She will do whatever she wants.

"Don't worry, Daddy," she smiles, dancing back from me with the sweetest smile seen before an angel. "There's the whole rest of forever to fill."


End file.
